Message-ID: <21505asstr$943665001@assm.asstr-mirror.org> X-Original-Message-ID: <002f01bf3868$27f6c060$d3e946cf@lewis> From: "Leviticus" Subject: {ASSM} To Catch a Monster part 1 (Crime, BDSM) MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="iso-8859-1" Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit X-Priority: 3 X-MSMail-Priority: Normal X-MimeOLE: Produced By Microsoft MimeOLE V5.00.2314.1300 Date: Fri, 26 Nov 1999 20:10:01 -0500 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: Vulpine, dennyw, IceAltar To Catch a Monster. Part 1 The snow was so cold it burned like fire, but the young woman didn't care. Her thoughts were on much more important things than how her feet felt. In fact the cold pain helped her, for it prevented her from feeling anything else she might be stepping on, anything else that would have slowed her down. As she continued to run her feet eventually became numb, which was better yet. There was nothing she could do to stop trembling though, and a part of her mind knew that she had to find some kind of shelter soon before the trembling got so bad that she couldn't run any more. She stopped. The forest was silent around her, sounds muffled by the steadily falling snow. She pulled fruitlessly at the thin leather cord that bound her hands behind her back, a cord she had worn so long that the knot in it could never be pulled apart again. Had she lost him? She couldn't hear anything in the snow and her shivering was getting worse. She began to wonder if it had been wise running from him while naked and bound. He had given her clothes to wear when they moved from campsite to campsite, but at those times he watched her very carefully. He hadn't thought she would take off with only the cord about her wrists for cover. She had to run, if only to keep warm. But which way? Down hill, it was her only choice. Down hill and to the river, then along it to the compound. She had to make it. Her feet were completely without life now, she felt nothing below her shins. She stumbled down the hill until a buried root tripped her and sent her sprawling, she didn't even feel it dislocate her ankle. She began crying as she tried to stand up, the cold dulling her thoughts and numbing her senses. She half crawled, half hopped, losing all sense of direction. Where was she going? She fell again, and this time could not get up. She pushed herself along with her knees, plowing the snow in front of her until her strength gave out. She was trembling madly now as she curled into a ball in the snow. Her sobbing got quieter and she imagined herself getting warmer as the cold numbed all her extremities. She began thinking of home, her fiancee, her brothers, her parents. She was their only daughter, the only girl. She was...Who was she? She fell asleep and dreamed pleasant dreams until she could dream no more. "Sidney! You bastard! Get over here!" Sidney ignored his Master as he ran nose down through the snow. He had picked up the scent of a rabbit and there was nothing Sidney liked better than the taste of fresh rabbit. "Sidney! You damn dog, I swear I'll have you fixed! Sidney!" Sidney kept going, plowing through the snow at an amazing speed, his sensitive nose able to pick up the scent even through a foot of newly fallen snow. Suddenly, he lost the scent. Something else had crossed the path, totally obliterating it. Sidney circled about for a moment, attempting to pick up the trail of the rabbit again, but instead came upon a hard object buried in the snow that smelled just like the new trail. Sidney sniffed around it for a moment. It smelled familiar. It wasn't rabbit, or anything else to eat for that matter. This scent Sidney associated with play, with scratches behind his always itching ears. This scent belonged to his extended pack, those who knew how to feed him and keep him warm. "Sidney! I'm going to leave you out here if you don't come back!" An empty threat. Sidney knew the way back to the compound better than his Master did. The trails on the ground were obvious to those that could smell them. Sidney began nuzzling the cold, hard shape. He knew that doing this would make the shape wake up and give him some attention. He began whining when the shape didn't move, it wasn't doing what it was supposed to do. Sidney wined louder and began to bark, that usually worked. The barking led his Master straight to him. "Sidney, you dumb dog. You find another rabbit?" said the old man dressed in leather and fur. Sidney whined and the old man drew closer, wondering what his pet had found and whether he could salvage supper from it. What ever it was it was bigger than a rabbit and Sidney had managed to clear away a lot of the snow. It was a funny color, not dark as almost all the animals that lived on this mountain were. It almost looked like... The old man took a step back, then reached forward and grabbed his dog by the collar. He knew what he was looking at now, and said a quick prayer. He knelt in the snow a moment, his strength momentarily lost to his discovery. "Good dog." he said to Sidney, who was still thinking about the rabbit. "Good dog." The old man pulled out of his pocket a length of rope he sometimes used as a leash and tethered Sidney by his collar to a tree. Then he dug a handkerchief, the only brightly colored cloth he had on him and a prized possession, out of a pocket and tied it securely to a tree branch. He knew he had to make sure he could find this exact spot again. He took hold of Sidney's leash, and half dragged the animal away and back to the compound. He needed to talk to someone. Paul Anderson looked up at the sky and wondered how much more time they had. The sky was dark and very low, a sure sign that heavy snow could come at any moment. It was not a good day to be out of the compound. He wouldn't have been if not for the day before, when his Uncle Bill had come to him with his story about finding someone out in the woods, frozen to death. He had walked back out to the spot with his uncle, and confirmed the old man's story with his own eyes. This was bad, very bad. Not again. This morning he had taken a horse down the mountain along the road that the county liked to keep clear. He rode into town and talked to his counterpart, Sheriff Kinkade. Now they were back, himself, the Sheriff, and two more men from the compound, one of them a father missing a daughter. Three men in leather and furs, and one in more modern winter clothing. The father gazed at the frozen body as the others swept the snow from it. He watched as the Sheriff inspected the wrists, examining the leather cord that trapped them. He didn't move as the men attempted to break the body from the frozen ground, succeeding only by bringing up some of the frozen earth with it. Only then did he move, drawing closer to look at the face that was partially obscured by hair. He dropped to his knees crying as the rest of the men carefully carried the frozen body over to a waiting sled, and took it away. "She died of exposure, that's my finding and the lab work will prove it when it comes back from the Capitol." said Doctor Tubel, pulling off his rubber gloves and throwing them in a bin. He had waited a full day to do the autopsy once the body had been brought to him, it had needed to thaw first. "What about the bindings on the wrists?" Kinkade asked him. Tubel glanced at the corner where Paul Anderson stood watching. Kinkade knew the look. Not many in the town tolerated those that lived up on the mountain. "Why don't you ask him?" Tubel said. "I'm asking you." "It was a rawhide cord, originally about two feet long. Nothing remarkable about it, not even the knot. I expect he has a few of those in his pockets right now!" Tubel pushed his way past the Sheriff. "Excuse me, Doctor Tubel." Paul said, his first words since coming into the room. "What?" Tubel asked impatiently. "When will you release her for burial?" "Not until the lab work comes back. Then it's up to the Sheriff." Tubel replied. For moment he felt sorry for the man. Despite their strange ways he had still lost someone close to him. Even Tubel was sympathetic to grief. "I'm sorry." Paul nodded. "I'll...er, have my report typed up in the morning." "Doctor," said the Sheriff, "is there anything you can tell us that you're not going to put in the report? Anything that you might not feel comfortable making an...official comment on?" Tubel hesitated, then he walked back to the body. "This girl had been missing about three weeks, right?" Paul nodded. June had been gone for three long weeks, disappearing only a week after announcing her engagement to Paul's son. He had liked the girl, she was a bright light in a world he saw filled with pain. Her disappearance had shocked him, her death had numbed him to the core. Breaking the news of her death to his son had been the hardest thing he had ever done. "As I reported, she had only been out in the snow a little while before the temperature got her, so she had to have been kept someplace warm while she was...er...tied up. You saw all the ligature marks on her arms and legs right? Although I would have expected that, considering who she was." Tubel glanced at Paul, expecting a reaction. But Paul just stared at him, which somehow felt worse. "Go on, Doctor." said Sheriff Kinkade, not appreciating Tubel's remark. "Her feet. They show no signs of frost damage other than the initial freeze that killed her. Yet I'm told that the mountain was extensively searched during the time she was gone. Searched well enough that the only way she could have been kept away from you is if she and her captor kept moving, picking up from one spot and putting down in another. During those moves she had to have been given shoes to wear to protect her feet, and probably clothes as well." "You're saying that whoever had her, took care of her?" Kinkade asked. "Yes. She couldn't have gone far like she was, not in the temperatures we've had up here the past few days. I'm thinking that she wasn't deliberately killed, but that she saw an opportunity to escape and took it, dying in the attempt." "But that's just a theory?" "Yes, Sheriff. And that's all I'm going to say about it. It won't be in the report." Tubel left the room, heading back to his office. Paul Anderson walked over to the body of young June and pulled a sheet over her. "I'm sorry Paul." said Kinkade sincerely. "Yeah, me too." Paul said. "Maybe when the lab tests get back we can get some clue as to who did this. Then maybe we could find out about the others." The Others. Paul closed his eyes. As if things weren't bad enough, June was not the only young woman from the compound to go missing over the past year. Two others had also disappeared, one four months ago, and the other almost nine. Like June, they had been found dead on the mountain a few weeks after their disappearance, only they were clearly murdered, their throats cut. "I'm thinking of calling in some help on this one Paul." said Kinkade. "I know you'd prefer to deal with just me, but for God's sake Paul, I'm in over my head here. I've done all I can and now it's time to call the big boys in." "No." said Paul. "It's time Paul. I've done what I can to protect what you people have built up there, but there is no way you can keep this local any more. Not if you want to catch the monster who's being doing this. You do want to catch him don't you?" "Oh yes," Paul said, with an edge to his voice that got Kinkade worried. "Then I have to call the Feds." "The Feds? Who would you call, the FBI?" Paul asked. "Yes, that's the next step. I should have done it at the beginning!" "What if...?" "What?" Paul turned away from the body and looked the Sheriff in the eye. "I can get you your help. My brother knows someone who could help you without causing us all problems." "I need official help, not another tracker." "She is official. I forget her name, but she works for the FBI. She's the one who put my brother in jail." "Oh...THAT brother. You can't be serious. Why would she help you?" "My brother told me that...well...if I can get her here in the next few days, will you hold off calling the Feds?" "No. But if you can get this FBI agent of yours to call me and say she is coming, then I will consider that call an official request for help. Then it's up to her who else she brings in here." "That will do." said Paul. He stuck out his hand and the Sheriff shook it. "Thank you my friend. You have always treated us fairly. I appreciate that." The Sheriff shrugged. "You and your people are decent and hard working, and more importantly you all stay out of trouble and out of my hair. I wish the townsfolk were that obliging." Paul let a small smile he didn't feel cross his weathered features. "I should go. I need to make preparations for my trip." "When are you leaving?" "In the morning, it's too late now." "I know it's a long bus ride for you. How about I drive you." Paul raised his eyebrows. "That's quite an offer. It's still a two day drive to the prison." "Yeah, but I'm allowed. After all, it is a part of the investigation." Paul's smile was genuine, his friend had just saved him two whole days. "Thank you." "Are you sure the trip is necessary?" Paul was asked by Gabe Miller. Paul was back at the compound. He needed to talk to Gabe before he left. Gabe Miller was the unofficial Mayor of their community, and had followed the investigation of the three dead women with deep concern. Paul thought it best to let him know what he was intending to do. "Yes, very. When Kinkade says he is out of his depth, I believe him. Kinkade is a very capable man. To admit he is having trouble means a lot." Gabe nodded. Gabe was old, very old. One of the few surviving members of the original group that had founded the compound back in the thirties. He had seen a lot happen to his extended family on the mountain, but the past year had been the worst. Normally able to stay out of the modern world and out of trouble, his people were now being hunted by someone. He needed to find out who. "This government woman you are planning on bringing in. What makes you so sure she can help when the Sheriff could not?" Paul shifted his bulk in the big leather chair. They were talking in Gabe's home, a place he rarely left once the snow hit the ground. "My brother tells me that this woman is not exactly a stranger to some of the things that set us apart. I think I have a plan on how to bring her in here so that the community will accept her. But Gabe, I need your silence about this. You need to know what I'm doing, but I need you not to say anything to anyone." "You still think it is one of us?" Gabe asked him with a smile. "You know I can't rule out that possibility." Gabe chuckled. "You always were a suspicious little boy, Paul. I knew a long time ago that you would make a good Guardian." "Thanks Gabe. But you will keep silent?" "Yes. You can trust me, Paul. I'm not senile yet." Paul laughed. "Your mind is sharp enough to cut wood!" Gabe smiled. "Then how about a game of chess before you retire tonight." Paul thought about the long trip he had to take in the morning, but since he was getting a ride he found it easy to accept Gabe's challenge. Besides, it was hard to refuse this old man anything. "I'm sorry Sir, but the prison is in lock down right now. No visitors are allowed. You might be able to see him tomorrow." Paul leaned against the counter and stared the prison guard in the eye. "It's important I see Matthew Anderson today, the live's of many young women depend on it." The guard had heard a lot of excuses in his time. This one wasn't even original. "I'm sorry, SIR. But no one see's anyone until the Warden lifts the lock down." Paul was about to have another go when Kinkade stepped forward. In his hand he held his Sheriff's I.D. "I'd like to see the Warden right now if I can. This is part of an official murder investigation." The guard stared at the I.D. for a moment and then looked up at both men. He noticed that each of them was bigger than him and that they both had the same intense look on their faces. What ever it was, these men were not kidding around or just making excuses. "I'll call him." he said, picking up a phone. Ten minutes later Kinkade was telling the Warden about how Matthew Anderson could have important information about a current case and that time was a factor. Twenty minutes after that Matthew Anderson was led into a visitors room. Paul stood up and embraced his younger brother. They had talked a couple of times before, for Paul had visited him twice since his arrival at this prison, but this was the first time they could actually touch. It was something important to both men. Kinkade watched them silently, as did a loan prison guard who stood in the far corner of the room. "How did you get in, Paul? Visitors aren't allowed during a lock down." Matthew asked. Paul indicated Kinkade who was still seated at the room's only table. "Thanks." Matthew said to him. Kinkade nodded and studied the younger man in front of him. Matthew appeared to have bulked up a little since he last saw him a few years ago, and he looked in good health despite spending the last couple of years away from the sun. Kinkade didn't trust him much though. Matthew was a felon, and to men like Kinkade that was a pretty deep hole to climb out of. "What's going on?" Matthew asked. Paul filled Matthew in on the deaths of the first two women and the discovery of June in the snow about a mile from the compound. Matthew listened in silence until his brother ran out of words. "What do you need from me?" he asked his older brother. He had known June, known them all. In a community as small as the compound you end up knowing everybody. It had been years since he had lived there, almost half his lifetime, but had been back to visit fairly frequently so could picture them quite easily in his mind. Matthew Anderson was a criminal, and he would readily admit that. But he was no killer. Despite spending the last two years living with men who viewed death as merely another form of business, he still didn't understand the need to take a life. It mad him sick to think about it. "I need you to contact that FBI agent that put you in here, and ask her if she will help." Paul asked him. "Rhianna?" Matthew asked. Matthew had thought a lot about Special Agent Rhianna Summer since he had been put away. That is, he couldn't get her out of his mind. It wasn't hatred, it was...he didn't even want to admit it to himself. Before she had arrested him she had lived with him for a time as his submissive, his slave, his...lover. He saw in her something he had never seen in other women he had "owned", something that still made his heart skip a beat. But she had betrayed him. She had taken him down in the middle of a mess almost of his own making. Blackmailed into using his art smuggling route to bring in a large drug shipment, he was doing what he could to save the life of a friend when Rhianna suddenly switched from being a wonderful submissive to being Queen FBI! He didn't blame her. She was under the impression that he was bringing in a bomb, and not just any bomb. A Weapon of Mass Destruction! That the weapon happened to be real didn't help his case in court or his more personal relationship with Rhianna. He really thought they had something going and hoped that Rhianna would come see him in jail. But he hadn't heard a word from her since...since he gagged her himself that fateful day on the waterfront. He often lay awake wondering if she would have arrested him for ordinary smuggling, if she had known the truth about him and wasn't under the impression that he was a mass murderer. "Rhianna?" he asked again. "Yes. Do you think she would help us?" "I can see why you need her. God knows no one else in the FBI would understand what was going on at home. But then again, maybe someone else could." Matthew sat in thought for a moment. "I need a phone." Sheriff Kinkade pulled out his cell phone. "Hey!" said the guard. "You cant give him that!" "This is official police business. I can do anything I damn well please!" snapped Kinkade. Matthew took the phone and dialed a number from memory. He was surprised he still knew it. He waited until it was answered. "Hi. I would like to speak to James Vessor please. Tell him it's Matthew Anderson." End of Part 1. You can contact me on ICQ #36088062 Or catch up on the Valley and Rhianna Summer stories at http://www.dajungle.com/stories/leviticus -- If you enjoyed this work, take a moment to email the author. Your comments are their only payment. 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